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“And who will you be bringing along? We need to let Annika know for the table plan.”
“I don’t know yet,” I admit, hearing Mum’s disappointed sigh. I know she’s waiting in hope for me to find the right woman and bless her with grandkids. I haven’t the heart to tell her that neither are on my agenda. “I’ll make sure Gina lets Annika know.”
“Okay. Bye, darling.”
“Bye.”
“Oh, Tyler, I nearly forgot the second thing.”
I bring the phone back to my ear, wondering what else there could be to put a smear on my morning. “What?”
“You haven’t forgotten Gina’s birthday, have you?”
My eyes shoot to the door of my office. Oh Fuck. “Mother, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just did.”
“But I’m here now. And I’ve already seen Gina.” This explains the slammed door. She’s not just pissed off that I ransacked her computer, or that I teased her about Mac. I’ve forgotten her fucking birthday. Shoot me now.
“Honestly, Tyler. She’s been with you since you started CW and you still need your mother to remind you that it’s her birthday.”
“I’ve gotta go.” I hang up and make fast tracks to the door, swinging it open and smiling, bright and wide. Gina barely even finds it in herself to look up at me, and when she does, she’s not taken by my cheesy grin. I swagger over to her desk, her scowl following me the entire way, and circle until I’m behind her chair. She doesn’t entertain me, as her fingers continue tapping at the keys. I bend and wrap my arms around her top half and smother the side of her face with my mouth.
She instantly starts to wriggle in my viselike hold. “Get off, you idiot.”
I remain strong, not letting her escape me. “Happy birthday, gorgeous.”
“Fuck off. Your mother just reminded you.”
“Not true,” I lie, relenting and releasing her.
She swings to face me in her chair, holding her hand out. “So where’s my present, then?”
“I’m taking you for lunch,” I declare proudly. “Wherever you want. Name it, gorgeous.”
“You already have a lunch meeting with Swarovski.”
“Then you can move it.”
Her red lips pout in contemplation. “You’re gonna take me for lunch?”
I nod. “Anywhere you desire.”
“Anywhere?”
“Anywhere.”
She hums, thoughtful. “Okay.” She swings back to her desk and pulls up Google. “I’ll book it now.”
“Great.” I start back to my office. “See what a good boss I am?”
“You’re an amazing boss,” she drones sarcastically. “I’ll expect my gift tomorrow morning.”
Damn it. Lunch was the gift. “Of course.” I flash her a smile as I turn at my door. “Wanna ask Mac if he wants to join us?”
“Piss off.” She picks up a pen and lobs it my way, and I shut the door just in time for it to collide with the other side. Then I laugh. Then I stop.
“Shit.” I have a half hour until the weekly catch-up meeting. I dart to my desk and tap “Gifts for women” into the Google search bar. Then I balk at the screen when the results spring up. Where the fuck do I start?I DIDN’T REALLY THINK THIS through. I’m sitting at the table with Gina dodging questions like my life depends on it, and I have done since we arrived. We’re now on dessert, and I’m exhausted.
She points her spoon at me. “And if you’re going to hijack my computer, at least turn it off when you’re done.”
“Are you done?” I ask, dropping my spoon to the table and swiping up my water. “This was supposed to be a relaxing birthday lunch. You’ve done nothing but give me an earache since we left the office.”
“Because you’re a dickhead.”
I look at her tiredly across the table, wondering when it became acceptable for an employee to speak to their boss in such a way. I know when. Since Ty Christianson hired Gina Savoy. “If you want to talk about overstepping marks, you win every time.”
She recoils, offended. She has a nerve. “Says he who stares at my tits every day.”
“Oh, behave. I haven’t taken a peek for days.”
“Yes, and why is that, Tyler?”
“Maybe because I’m worried Mac will slug me one if I take liberties.” I shrug and wave the waiter for the bill as Gina curls her lip. “Or maybe because they’re sagging in your old age,” I add, and she gasps her horror, peeking down at her puppies. “Hate to tell ya, girl,” I sigh. “But they’re not as pert as they were seven years ago.”
Gina picks up her napkin and lobs it at my head, and I laugh, catching it. “It’s my birthday. You can’t be mean to me today.”
The bill lands. “I just bought you lunch,” I point out, flipping the small folder open. The pound signs hit me. “Three hundred quid?” I look up at Gina, who’s smiling smugly. “Did you purposely book the most expensive restaurant with an available table?”
